


we know full well there's just time

by reveries_passions



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Apocalypse, Dystopia, End of the World, I AM SORRY, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse, basically i am sorry, idk why i wrote this somebody take my laptop away, niall and liam are mentioned once, oh right, this is.....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 19:10:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14002698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reveries_passions/pseuds/reveries_passions
Summary: I have been one acquainted with the night.I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.I have outwalked the furthest city light.~louis doesn’t want to die, but he’s not sure if he wants to live either.





	we know full well there's just time

**Author's Note:**

> title from not about angels by birdy.

_ “If I could have put you in my heart, _

_ If but I could have wrapped you in myself, _

_ How glad I should have been! _

_ And now the chart _

_ Of memory unrolls again to me  _

_ The course of our journey here, before we had to part. _

 

_ And oh, that you had never, never been _

_ Some of your selves, my love, that some _

_ Of your several faces I had never seen! _

_ And still they come before me, and they go,  _

_ And I cry aloud in the moments that intervene. _

 

_ And oh, my love, as I rock for you to-night, _

_ And have not any longer any hope _

_ To heal the suffering, or make requite _

_ For all your life of asking and despair,  _

_ I own that some of me is dead to-night.” _

 

_ \- the end by d.h. lawrence _

  
  


Louis stared into the smashed mirror. 

There was blood around the edges of the glass; maybe it wasn’t blood, maybe it was rust. Either way, it looked like somebody had punched it in a fit of rage. He pictured it in his mind. Maybe it had been during a fight, maybe they were dying...maybe someone they loved had died. He shuddered.

_ Is that me?  _ he thought. His reflection, mangy and wild and unkempt, stared back at him. Blinked.  _ Is that really me?  _ He knew the answer already, that his old self was gone, just like everything else that used to exist.

The water was gone. The food was gone. The gasoline was gone and the cars were gone and the people were gone. The children were gone. The grass was gone. Everything was gone. The world was nothing. 

_ Harry is gone _ , that little voice in the back of his head chimed in. 

No. Harry wasn’t gone, not yet. Louis peeked his head round the corner of the bathroom just to ease his worry a little bit. Harry was there. He was lying on the couch and his eyes were closed and his face was white and he could’ve been dead if Louis hadn’t been checking for a pulse every other minute, but Harry was there. 

But yes, the water was as close to being gone as it could possibly get without completely disappearing. They were nearly out of food, not that Harry had been eating. But the lakes and the rivers and the ponds were all dry and their personal stock was nearly completely diminished, and Louis had been too afraid to step out of the apartment for fear of being absent when Harry either awoke or...yeah. 

They were going to be okay, though. He would pull himself together and go get them water and food. And maybe medicine. He wasn’t sure how long he had or how much he would be able to find but he would have to. There wasn’t an option here. They were out of time and he was going to do it today. 

He stepped out of the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind him. 

_ Harry’s still here _ , he thought, gazing down at the boy underneath his cocoon of blankets. He looked like a marble statue; like he belonged in a museum. Like, if he was touched, he would shatter. His hair, feather soft, was fanned around his head like a halo, the only proof he was actually living besides the faint rise and fall of his chest. Louis wanted to cry. 

His bag was packed. He wouldn’t be gone for long. Only a couple hours. 

_ A couple hours is enough to die.  _

No. It wasn’t. Harry looked better than he had been. He wasn’t sweaty, and he wasn’t shivering. 

_ What if that’s a bad thing? _

It wasn’t. It meant he felt better. He was sure of it. 

He watched Harry as he slipped on his shoes, tied them up. Harry was completely still and  _ God _ , he was beautiful.

_ How did this happen?  _ he thought. He didn’t know the answer. Nobody did. 

He knelt in front of Harry when he was done, and though he knew he probably shouldn’t have even though he was fairly certain he wasn’t contagious, he cradled the boy’s head in both hands, pressing a very gentle kiss to his temple.

“I’ll be back soon, baby,” he murmured. “I promise. You be safe. I love you.” He pretended, for a moment, that things were normal. Like he was about to go to the grocery store and Harry was blissfully asleep and it was a late summer’s morning and instead of a tattered sofa he was lying on the bed they shared. King sized, obviously. 

_ Love you _ , Harry whispered back in his mind, voice heavy and groggy and a faint smile on his face. Then he drifted off back to sleep. 

Louis got to his feet, pulled on the backpack. It wasn’t like he needed it, not really--it was so light it felt like nothing--but it made him feel a little more secure in himself, like he’d be prepared for something. It’s only contents were a jacket and a can of green beans and a pair of socks and a swiss army knife. 

It was going to be fine. He would be fine. Harry would be fine. A couple hours wouldn’t change anything. 

“I love you,” he repeated helplessly from the doorway. 

Then he left.   
  


 

~

  
  


It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm either. He shivered anyways. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with the weather. Maybe he was just nervous. 

He tugged at the bandana over his nose a bit. That made things slightly warmer but didn’t much help with the nerves as he watched the curve of the warehouse roof draw closer and closer with every step.

The warehouse was the kind of damp and musty that grew spores and infection, so he tried to avoid it when possible, but it was the only place that had what he needed: non-perishable food and bottled water. He took out his pocket knife upon approaching the warehouse, the inklings of fear beginning to tickle the back of his throat and raise goosebumps on his arms, and lifted the door as quietly as he could. It squealed, and he winced. He had to be quick. 

It was too dark to see anything and he could only sense shapes but he couldn’t  _ hear  _ anything which was the most important thing. He took a deep breath and flicked on his flashlight, making his rounds and collecting his things and all the while his heart was pounding in his chest and he held his knife close. 

_ Get ready to run.  _

He wouldn’t have to run, hopefully. He wouldn’t be able to anyway, as there was only so much he was able to carry. He was still recovering from that back injury and he’d sprained his ankle not long ago and. Well. If he had to run, he would. He’d do it for Harry if not for his own life. 

Harry. Harry was the whole reason he was here, anyway. He thought that if Harry hadn’t been here with him, he would’ve given up the fight long ago.  

It would be really easy. To give it up. 

He shook the thought away. It vanished, as if it was a mirage. As if someone had been forcing it into his head. 

It was hard to resist eating one of the things he had collected right then and there. It wasn’t a lot—just some saltines and a couple cans of chili and some chowder and chickpeas—but he was so  _ hungry _ , it felt like hunger was clawing away at his insides. He was about to leave, disappointed at the lack of supply and anxious about what he’d do when the warehouse ran out, when he caught sight of something lying on its side by the door. 

He shined the flashlight at it curiously. It was a bag of Cadbury mini eggs. His mouth flooded with saliva. 

_ Fuck. It’s probably moldy and stale and crawling with bugs.  _

He glanced both ways, and picked up the bag gingerly. It was sealed. There was a possibility it could be good. If it was manufactured close to the end, it...it could still be edible. 

A rattling sounded from behind him, and his stomach jumped into his throat. 

He made a run for it. 

There was a strange prickle at the back of his neck while he jogged towards the apartment; it was the familiar feeling of being followed. He ran faster. The thing behind him did too, he could hear it now, teeth clacking and bare feet hitting the pavement. A sheen of sweat collected on his upper lip. This wasn’t how he was going to die. Not for a bag of chocolate.

Or maybe it would be a symbolic way to go out. He didn’t know. 

He turned a corner, grabbing a hold of the door handle and twisting it, hard. He stumbled over the threshold and pulled the door shut and let out a long breath of air, wiping away the sweat that had plastered his hair to his forehead. 

Wearily, and clutching his bag of chocolate, he made his way up the stairs. He fished the key out of his back pocket and made a silent prayer that Harry would still be Harry when he walked in and unlocked the door. 

He was. He’d just rolled off the couch and onto the floor and gotten himself a nosebleed in the process. 

“Fuck,” he said, chaining the door and dropping everything. “Oh my god. H? Can you hear me?” He couldn’t, evidently, but that didn’t stop Louis’ eyes from welling up with tears when he realized Harry would’ve had to be conscious in order to do that. Of course, that led to him thinking,  _ what if Harry woke up while I was gone? What if he was terrified?  _ Consequently this led to the tears in Louis’ eyes falling and he couldn’t even wipe them away as the world blurred because he was too occupied trying to coax Harry up off the floor. 

“Baby,” he said painfully. “Fuck.” He latched his arms under Harry’s armpits and pulled as hard as he could, but he was smaller and slighter than Harry and he wasn’t strong enough. A sob wracked his shoulders.

An hour later, in his desperation, he’d set up a nest of pillows and blankets where Harry had fallen, making sure his head was cushioned and then putting a blanket under him and over him. He wiped up Harry’s face and tried to force some water down his throat and cried for a bit and then, eventually, he decided to investigate his findings. He resisted reaching for the chocolate just yet. Wasn’t quite ready for the magnitude of that disappointment. 

The cans were good and only two of the saltines had grown mold, so he tossed those and the ones touching them and deemed the food alright. He drank half a bottle of water and put the cans away in a cupboard, saving the chickpeas for dinner and the chili for later and the chowder for even later. Maybe a celebration for when Harry woke up. 

Finally, he picked up the chocolate. First he found the expiration date, which was really a best before date, and that was about five months ago. He tore open the bag, recoiling a little as if something was going to jump out at him. Nothing did. There were maybe twenty chocolate eggs and they were all different colors and a few were smashed and he wanted to sob with something that felt pretty close to happiness. No bugs. No mold. They smelled alright, and he cut open one with his knife just to make sure; clean. 

_ Fuck it _ , he thought, and stuck one in his mouth.

It melted, and it didn’t taste gourmet but it was so good and for a moment, flashes of his life a year ago began to force themselves into the forefront of his mind. He pushed them away, ate one more egg, and then closed the bag back up. He would save them. It was going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine. 

  
  


~

  
  


A few days passed. A few more days of Harry being asleep. A few more days of canned green beans and, in all these days, one chocolate egg. 

He decided that sitting and rereading a book wasn’t such a good use of his time, and instead committed himself to Harry’s revival. He figured even if Harry couldn’t hear him it was something, right? Something to keep him sane. So he began to talk. 

At first, it was stories. Just ones he made up on the spot. And then stories became memories, and memories became wishes and wishes became hope and. This had been a bad idea. But sometimes Harry would twitch, and he would only do this once Louis had started crying. As if maybe he was listening. As if he knew, and he was trying to tell Louis he was still there. It made everything a little more bearable. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he said dumbly one day. “I need you to wake up. Please.” 

The thought of moving out, of leaving Harry and trying to find a safer place for himself, never once crossed his mind.

Well, maybe it did. But it always terrified him and made him even more nervous that he wouldn’t be able to control himself if something  _ did  _ happen. 

Would it really matter, though? If he lost Harry, would there really be anything left for him to live for? 

He didn’t want to find out.

  
  


~

  
  


Harry stayed on the floor as a month passed.

In all that time, he didn’t wake up. 

Louis started to lose hope. 

  
  


~

  
  


He ran out of food again shortly thereafter.

All he had left was five saltines and a third of a bottle of water. He kissed Harry on the head--the boy was still breathing, though faintly--and left, locking the door behind him. 

_ Harry is going to die _ , he thought. 

He decided not to go to the warehouse. It was nearly empty, anyway. There was another warehouse, but that was across the city. The next closest thing was a supermarket, maybe a fifteen minute walk away. He knew exactly where it was so he wouldn’t get lost and the place was relatively empty. 

He didn’t even realize he was acting impulsively until he’d reached the doors and was jumping back at the sound of fingernails scraping down metal. 

Then he retreated back to the warehouse, and returned to the apartment with another pack of saltines and two cans of refried beans. They would have to leave soon. 

He wanted his mother.

  
  


~

  
  


Spring turned to summer, and in all this time, Harry didn’t wake up, but he kept breathing. Watching him alive but unconscious was painstaking and Louis wasn’t sure that there was much left to hope for. 

He had no food and he’d cleaned the first warehouse. All he had left was a can of chowder and eighteen chocolate eggs, and then he’d begin having to travel across the city for more food, still with the risk of there not being anything left.

When June came, he drank some water and ate two eggs. They only helped a little bit. 

  
  


~

  
  


He opened the chowder that week, and cried as he did so. He was so hungry.

  
  


~

  
  


There was a stirring in the night; he heard it from the bathroom, and it came from the window. He’d leapt to his feet and grabbed up his knife and stopped his hands from shaking and moved  _ quickly _ , because he wasn’t going to lose Harry, he  _ couldn’t _ , even if he was already gone. 

Through the dark, he could make out a tall figure clawing at the window from the inside, as if they were trying to get out. A million awful things came to his mind at once and he pressed himself against the wall. If Harry was gone, if that was Harry, he would just have to give up. He had nothing left. 

“Harry,” he whispered, teary and trembling. 

The figure turned. It was Harry, and half his face was missing. 

Louis screamed and woke up; he turned his head to look at where Harry was unconscious on the sofa. He didn’t sleep for another three nights.

  
  


~

  
  


“We’ll be safe,” Niall had said to him when they’d parted. “Promise. You look after each other.” 

He’d looked over at Harry, who was crying and hugging Liam so tightly he looked like he would break. 

“Of course,” he’d replied, a little surprised. Of _ course  _ they would look after each other. “Don’t worry.” 

He should’ve gone with them, instead of going to find his family. He should’ve gone with Niall and Liam to the fucking safehouse. 

  
  


~

  
  


In July, Harry coughed. 

Louis hadn’t eaten a proper meal in more than two weeks, and he could barely stand on his own two feet without collapsing, but he shocked himself by darting to the boy’s side instantly, scrambling for his hands and searching his face desperately. 

“Harry?” he croaked. “Baby?” 

Harry’s eyes; they fluttered. Louis sobbed. “Harry?” 

Those eyes, when they opened for the first time in four months, were just as clear and beautiful as they had been the last time they closed. 

  
  


~

  
  


“You thirsty?” Louis asked, and without waiting for a reply, handed Harry a bottle of water anyway. Harry smiled up at him from his place on the couch. He’d just begun using the bathroom by himself and it didn’t seem that big to Harry but to Louis it meant everything. 

“Thanks love,” Harry answered, and drained half the bottle. 

“I was thinking,” Louis started. “We’ve got a few cans left, right? Which’ll last us...I don’t know, a week. Maybe more. You…” He took a deep breath. “You know the supermarket? In the square?” 

Harry’s face dropped, as if he already knew what Louis’ was going to say. “It’s crowded.” 

_ It is. _

“I know, but. Listen.” He sat down on the edge of the sofa and took Harry’s hands in his own. They were cold, so he blew on them, and a faint fond look washed over Harry’s face. He loved him. “I can get in from the back and block off the front entrance and, I dunno, get some food or something, and leave. It’ll be that easy.” 

“Lou…” 

“Harry.” Louis squeezed his hands. “We’re almost out."

“We could find a car,” Harry suggested hopelessly. “And try and get to the safehouse. We could still do that.”

“There aren’t any cars,” he answered, as calmly as he could. “Or gas. Harry, there’s nothing. There’s nothing left."

“It’s so dangerous, Lou.” Harry’s eyes welled. “I can’t lose you, alright? Please. Please don’t.” 

“We’re out of food.”

“We’ll find more somewhere not so  _ dangerous _ .”

“There’s nowhere!” Louis cried, getting to his fit and clutching his head in his hands. “There’s fucking nowhere! There’s nothing left!” He flung a lamp off its place on the table and it shattered on the floor. Harry closed his eyes. “Everything’s gone! Our families! All our fucking food, all our fucking water! It’s gone.” His back slid down the wall and a piece of glass nicked his foot. “Everything’s gone.” 

After a moment, Harry stood up, tentatively stepping round the broken glass and kneeling beside Louis’ broken form. He put a hand on his thigh gingerly.

“We’re still here,” was all he said. 

Louis pulled him into his arms. They didn’t move for a while.

  
  


~

  
  


He looked back at Harry’s sleeping form. The sun had barely risen, and he pulled his backpack higher on his shoulder. He’d left the bag of chocolate eggs on the table. 

_ I’m going to get us food _ , he thought.

_ I’m going to save us.  _

  
  


~

 

_ “I have been one acquainted with the night.  _ __  
_ I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.  _ __  
_ I have outwalked the furthest city light.  _ __  
__  
_ I have looked down the saddest city lane.  _ __  
_ I have passed by the watchman on his beat  _ __  
_ And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.  _ __  
__  
_ I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet  _ __  
_ When far away an interrupted cry  _ __  
_ Came over houses from another street,  _ __  
__  
_ But not to call me back or say good-bye;  _ __  
_ And further still at an unearthly height,  _ __  
_ One luminary clock against the sky  _ __  
__  
_ Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right  _ _  
_ __ I have been one acquainted with the night.”

_ \- acquainted with the night by robert frost _

  
  


**the end**

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> heh
> 
> sorry about that 
> 
> special special hugest thank u to [angie](http://florallads.tumblr.com) for betaing this so last minute as i wrote this in two days, bby u saved my life and sorry for putting u through this pain dfhfjsfh
> 
> also the hugest thank u to [shyanne](http://sparkleguccisuit.tumblr.com) for making the moodboard i would die for yall 
> 
> u can find me on tumblr [here](http://dystopianharry.tumblr.com) and the fic post [here](http://ot4tat.tumblr.com/post/171973576861/we-know-full-well-theres-just-time-3k-by)
> 
> thank u for reading, it means the world and ily all so so much <3 sorry again for that ending skjfskjd
> 
> bella xx


End file.
